


Coin Trick

by GoblinWithAHeart



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Blowjobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Connor, F/M, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Strong Language, Submissive Reader, Work sex, basically an excuse to give connor a blowjob, live it love it and enjoy, no beta we die like men, no y/n just a personal preference, small little switcheroo at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 01:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinWithAHeart/pseuds/GoblinWithAHeart
Summary: You're trapped in a small room, stuck doing busy work, and Connor won't stop flipping that goddamn coin of his. Frustrations mount to a rather unorthodox solution. Essentially, reader and Connor share an intimate moment. In which the reader sucks Connor's cock.Also known as What You Write When Your Other Fic Is Giving You Writer's Block.





	Coin Trick

**Author's Note:**

> yo gob here back at it again with the shameless smut catch me skateboarding off into the distance finger guns ablazing

You were certain you were in some circle of Hell.

You had to be. Between the clattering coming from the clearly malfunctioning AC ducting overhead, the extremely cramped quarters, and  _ the current company _ , you were convinced you had died, been judged a sinner, and sent straight down the chute to Satan’s boudoir.

But you were a patient individual. You could handle all that. What was killing you, however, was the incessant  _ tink-tink-tink _ ing of your company’s apparent nervous tic.

“Connor, I swear to Christ, if you don’t stop messing with your  _ goddamn _ quarter, I’m going to strangle you with your own tie.” You clenched the papers in your hand, wrinkling them around the edges and ultimately making your job harder.

“I didn’t realize it was bothering you,” the android replied coolly, completely unaffected by the dangerous tone in your growl. He made no move to stop, though, rolling the coin over his knuckles expertly as he focused on your shared task.

“Well it is,” you snapped, jaw tight. You smoothed the papers on the edge of the desk separating you and the object of your annoyance. Your movements were harsh, roughly flipping over the scanner and slamming the lid shut over the paper you had inserted, then jabbing the start button. The bright light of the scanner scrolled slowly across the gap, and you tapped your foot impatiently. After a moment, the screen on the device showed a green checkmark, the paper successfully digitized and uploaded to the DPD servers. You took another paper and started the process over again. And again. And again.

The room you shared with Connor had filing cabinets lining most of the walls, the contents of which had to be scanned in to the DPD archives. And apparently  _ you _ and the world’s most advanced prototype detective android were just the crew for the job.

You glared at him from across the desk, the buzzing from the fluorescent lighting overhead beginning to get on your nerves as well. You stared daggers into him, but he was apparently oblivious to your open annoyance, that  _ fucking _ coin dancing along his fingertips with no effort on his part.

He always made everything look effortless. An advantage of having a literal super computer for a brain, you guessed. Even this Sisyphean task looked easy when he did it, although all  _ he _ had to do was keep the uplink to the servers connected and scan the pages with a look. He was flipping pages every couple of seconds to your snail’s pace.

You scowled and turned back to your work, slamming the lid shut again.

“You should be careful with the equipment,” Connor scolded, never even looking up at you. “If you break it, we’ll be here for the rest of the week.”

Your mouth hung open incredulously. “Excuse me?” You scoffed, brows knit together in anger. “It’s your damn fault we’re even here in the first place!”

This time Connor did pause, one hand resting on the stack of papers, the other holding his quarter between two fingers, his elbow propped up on the table. He simply looked at you for a moment, and you glared in response. He quirked one eyebrow, returning to the task at hand before dismissively replying, “I think you know that’s not how it happened.”

Fire rose up your spine, and maybe it was the unbearable heat brought on by that stupid fucking rattling AC, but you felt your blood pressure rising. You stood from your chair, the metal back of it hitting a filing cabinet behind you, barely giving you enough space to stand and practically ripped your jacket from your body, flinging it at the android across from you.

The material struck Connor right in the face, sending papers fluttering and his quarter clattering to the floor.

“The fuck it was! I wouldn’t have done anything at all if you knew to keep your mouth shut!” You placed your hands on your hips, scowling.

Connor gripped your jacket, pulling it from himself and dropping it to the floor beside him. He wouldn’t look at you, probably knew you just wanted a reaction out of him, but wouldn’t give you the slightest satisfaction.

He leaned over smoothly, picking his coin up from the floor, before staring you right in the eyes and flipping the damn thing with the loudest  _ tink _ possible. “And if you knew how to keep your temper in check, this would all be a moot point.” He flipped the coin again, that sound entering your ears and somehow finding the  _ precise _ spot in your brain for impulse control and switched it off.

You growled, and when he flipped it again, you leaned over the desk and swiped your hand out, meaning to snatch the little metal object right out of the air.

But Connor made everything look easy, including having a fast enough reaction time to grab your wrist before you could blink, then pulling, ruining your balance and sending you falling onto the desk. You yelped, the metal feet of the desk scraping ever so slightly against the concrete floor from your graceless tumble. You tried to get back up, but between Connor’s fast hold on you and the way your legs had wedged themselves against your chair, you had no leverage to work with.

“Goddammit, Connor, let me go!” You demanded, your free hand scrabbling on the surface of the desk, the edge of which was digging painfully into the tops of your thighs.

“This is what I was talking about,” he said, which managed to piss you off more. “Had you been in the right frame of mind when the incident happened, we could have avoided this punishment.” Connor pocketed his quarter, and you watched as he instead pulled at the knot of his tie, loosening it from his neck. “Instead,” he continued, and he pulled the silk free, maneuvering its length around your wrist, and you tried to jerk your hand away, but his grip was far too strong, “You acted without thinking, allowing your temper to get in the way of rationality.”

“Fuck you,” you growled, struggling against him as he tied the other end of his tie to a handle of a filing cabinet. The room was honestly  _ way _ too small. “Untie me  _ right now _ , or I swear to god--”

Connor shuffled off his jacket, laying it gently over the back of his chair. He began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, fingers diligently folding the material in even bands. “What will you do?” He asked, one eyebrow raised, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He regarded you with dark, half-lidded eyes, and that fire that had been raging inside you was suddenly doused.

“I’ll, I’ll…” You stammered, neck craning up to look at him from your prone position on the desk. Your hands gripped the edge, and your throat was suddenly dry.

Connor cupped your chin with a delicate touch, and he crouched down to come face to face with you. “I don’t think you’ll do anything,” he countered. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, the touch velvety soft. “I think you know you deserve it.”

“Connor,” you squeaked out, flush rising to your cheeks. “Here?”

Connor smiled at you, a predatory thing. The single overhead light fixture shadowed his face, accentuating the angles of his cheekbones and jaw. You felt your heart start to pound in your chest.

“You know exactly how to get yourself out of this situation,” he purred, rising to stand. He practically loomed over you, and before you could even attempt a fiery response, the thumb on your lip slipped into your mouth.

A surprised hum left your throat as the digit pressed against your tongue, warm and demanding. You looked up at Connor,at the way he looked down at you, watched his shadowed eyes stare at your lips wrapped around his finger, how that errant lock of hair fell even more out of place. A different heat began to radiate through you.

You supposed you did know exactly how to get out of this situation.

So you curled your lips more firmly around him, sucking gently, your tongue laving over the digit.

Connor sucked in a breath, the subtle sound music to your ears. He may have had you stuck the way you were, but you still had an effect on him.

Until he removed his finger from your mouth, a pop coming from your pursed lips. You looked up at him through your lashes, and Connor met your gaze with eyes dark with lust. He brought his thumb up to his lips, tasting your saliva on his synthetic skin.

Your cheeks felt hot, watching him analyze you like that, the way he seemed to be evaluating you, judging some aspect of you. Connor smirked, apparently approving of whatever parameters he was testing you against.

He reached down, caressing your cheek, the remnants of moisture on his hand smearing over the swell of your cheekbone. “Now,” he said, quiet but forceful, “show me what you can really do.”

You wanted to ask him what he meant, but before the words could leave your mouth, Connor’s hands were on his belt, deftly unbuckling the thin leather. He palmed himself over the fabric of his jeans, and you saw the bulge forming beneath the denim.

An involuntary swallow bobbed your throat as you watched him, those skillful hands unbuttoning the fly of his jeans and inching the zipper down. Your eyes were fixed on the movement in front of you, though you could feel him watching your reactions. He pulled down the thin fabric of his black boxer briefs and he was fully exposed to you now.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes unwavering from Connor’s cock. It bobbed lightly in front of you to the rhythmic thumping of the android’s thirium pump, a mechanical heartbeat keeping his flesh hot, and you swore you could feel the heat burn on your face. Or were you just blushing?

You hardly had a moment to dwell on the concept before the tip of him was pushing against your lips. “Open,” he commanded, his dark eyes locked onto yours, no room for questioning.

And like a meek little thing, you obeyed.

Your eyes closed as you parted your lips, tongue reaching out to lick a stripe over the head of Connor’s cock, a drip of artificial pre-cum already dotting the slit. You lapped it up before locking your lips around him, a low hum involuntarily buzzing in your throat.

You could feel Connor staring down at you as he inched himself further into your mouth. “Look at me,” he said, and you did, your mouth around him, eyes shadowed by your lashes.

He was the image of lust. A lip pulled between his teeth, the shadows from the harsh fluorescent lights, and a hand pushed into his hairline, holding back that stray lock as he looked down at you, watched you eagerly take his length. It was all the encouragement you needed, really.

You hummed, laving your tongue over him as you tried to move your head as best you could from your position. You  _ wanted _ him to like it, to know you did good. You wanted to make him cum and not let a drop of it go to waste. You wanted him to do terrible,  _ wonderful _ things to you.

“Fuck,” Connor cursed, voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good.”

Those simple words were like a shockwave, sending a ripple of desire down your spine, landing home between your thighs and making you ache.

You hummed in response, your efforts redoubling, lewd, slick sounds coming from your mouth working Connor’s cock. He sucked in a breath, an unnecessary habit he had previously cultivated since his deviation.

The table was cold under your hands, and the edge still dug painfully into your legs, but it hardly mattered at the moment--how could it matter when Connor was looking down on you like that? You looked up at him, and his eyes roved over you, taking in the curves of your body beneath your clothes, how the swell of your ass was accentuated from being bent over the table.

Connor reached out a hand, a soft, forceful touch grazing your hairline, pushing stray strands back out of your face. “Now be good and hold still.”

He began to buck his hips, and you relaxed your mouth, careful to keep your teeth away from the sensitive synthetic flesh. He pushed in further, further, until he hit the back of your throat, and you swallowed involuntarily, a small gag flexing your throat.

“Shh,” Connor soothed, wiping away a tear that pricked the corner of your eye. “You’re doing so good, so good.” He pulled his hips back, the shine of your saliva covering almost every inch of his length, just the head remaining enclosed in your lips. He caressed your cheek, hand moving back to your hairline.

Then he tightened his hand, grabbing a fistful of hair, and bucked back in, fucking your face with a forceful precision only he was capable of.

Your yelp of surprise was muffled on Connor’s cock, but you didn’t miss a beat, slacking your jaw and gripping the edge of the table, holding on for dear life as Connor used you.

It was all you could do to keep your teeth to yourself, let alone dwell on the insane situation that befell you. A stupid work conflict led you to this, a simple slip of the tongue and now, your tongue was busy with a different task. How Connor had shifted his normally very passive demeanor to a persona of dominator, how he demanded your acquiescence to his desire--this strange sort of punishment from misbehavior, and you had to admit.

You could get used to it.

The heat from Connor’s body seemed to radiate from him, and you felt it in waves every time his abdomen pressed close to your face, and he was gritting his teeth now, heavenly curses falling from his lips as his thrusts quickened, growing more erratic. He was close, you knew, and you wanted him to finish, to cum because of you and your sinful mouth, to be undone when you couldn’t even  _ move _ .

It only took a few moments longer before a final, desperate “ _ Fuck _ ,” spilled from Connor’s mouth and his artificial cum spilled from his dick seated deep in your mouth, almost falling directly down your throat. You drank it down dutifully, the taste a mix of flavors wholly unique to him.

Connor withdrew himself from you, and you didn’t let him part without a resounding pop from your lips as he was finally finished with you. Your breaths were ragged and you knew your lips were swollen red, hair a mess from Connor’s iron grip. You looked up at him as he straightened his appearance, tucking himself back into his pants and rebuckling his belt.

He smiled at you, his signature smirk, but soft. He smoothed his hand over your hair, laying it flat again, sliding down to palm your cheek, a thumb running over the sensitive flesh of your lower lip. “Very good,” he praised, and you didn’t want to admit how much your heart leapt at that simple reassurance.

In a swift movement, Connor easily untied the knot of his tie from your wrist, and you hadn’t realized how much tension you had apparently been keeping on it, since your body quickly relaxed and slid down the table slightly. The shift allowed you to finally untangle your legs from your chair, and you pushed against the metal surface of the table, finally, finally able to stand upright again.

You both stood in silence for a moment, Connor tying his tie back around his neck, and you, just staring at him, a face some shade of embarrassed. Finally, you swiped a hand across the corner of your mouth, wiping away the last bit of saliva, proof of the strange encounter you just had.

“Thank you for the stress relief,” Connor finally said, voice light and jovial as ever, as if he  _ weren’t _ talking about a dirty, basement-of-work blowjob. “I think you can agree we both needed that.”

“ _ Both _ ?” The incredulous tone of your voice was completely involuntarily, and probably a hair too loud. “And just what did you do for me?” Your hands were on your hips, and the ache at your thighs wasn’t only from the edge of the table pressing into you.

“You’re right,” Connor agreed. “It would only be fair to pay you back in kind.” He made a move to round the desk, ignoring the papers at his feet, but you held out your hand, pressing against his chest from an arm’s length away.

Connor stopped in his tracks, and you levelled him with a serious stare. “If you ever try to pull a stunt like this at work again, I will fucking murder you.”

He only smiled in response, that damned smirk, all smug and challenge. “No, you won’t.” You narrowed your eyes, the blush adorning your cheekbones apparently all the answer he needed. “It’s past five o’clock now,” Connor said, eying the mess of papers in the too-small room. “We’ll have to continue this project tomorrow.”

You dropped your hand, crossing your arms over your chest. “Still all your fault,” you accused, and Connor didn’t reply this time. He only stooped down to collect the clutter, before handing you your long-abandoned jacket.

He stood again, a neat stack of papers deftly deposited on the edge of the table. A short movement and Connor opened the door, gesturing for you to exit before him. A small grumble of protest, and you complied, awkwardly maneuvering around the table to reach the long hallway outside the door.

The air was cooler, a refreshing blast of properly-working air conditioning cooling the heat on your face.

Followed quickly by the all-too-familiar  _ tink  _ of Connor’s quarter as he flicked it into the air.

\---

_ Earlier That Day _

You stood next to Connor in the break room, watching with fascination as he danced that vintage coin across his knuckles. You shook your head, a smile playing at your lips as he talked to you about… Something. Honestly, you forgot to pay attention, probably some detail about a case he was working on, but god, you were distracted with how he deftly moved those fingers of his…

“Little distracted there, eh?” A voice interrupted your daydream, coming from the new rookie entering the break room. He was a gruff sort, still fresh from the academy and apparently thought his shiny new badge meant a damn thing around here. He leaned into your personal space, a trick he liked to play to make you uncomfortable.

“Fuck off, kid,” you spat, trying to ignore him.

“Aw, c’mon, I’m just ribbing ya,” he barked a laugh, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Connor pause his coin trick. “Just a little friendly heckling.” The rookie smiled a smug grin. “Besides, everyone here knows you’ve been goin’ home with this piece of plastic every night for the last couple weeks.”

You grit your teeth, indignation rising in your chest. “I said fuck  _ off _ .”

“I’m just sayin, you girls and your toys. You keep playing with ‘em, and you’ll forget how a real man can make you feel every night.”

You opened your mouth to curse at him, to spit at him, to bite his stupid fucking face off, but Connor’s cool voice interrupted your tirade before it could begin.

“Actually, detective,” Connor said, tone even, “It’s only been three or four times a week, depending on our caseloads.”

The rookie’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, a sharp laugh escaping from his throat--

Before being cut short by a quick cross from your fist, knocking the vile man to the floor.

So who really was to blame for yours and Connor’s subsequent punishment in the tiny little archival room? One could argue it was laid fifty-fifty between the two of you.

But if you were calling the shots, you’d put it all on that fucking rookie.

_ Yeah _ , fuck that guy.


End file.
